


Just Another Game

by sharkvee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkvee/pseuds/sharkvee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A peer into the skipped perspectives of The Reichenbach Fall - Mycroft sacrificing his brother's safety for the protection of his country, and Moriarty's disappointment with purely 'staying' alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Game

Mycroft blinked and sharply inhaled, he shook as his phone vibrated on the table, attracting the attention of Anthea, his PA, whose face was usually perpetually buried in her phone, wrinkled with worry.

I have a proposal…come and play, Big Brother. x JM

He had known this was coming and never would he be prepared, but Mycroft was primarily a businessman; a civil servant. Unfortunately, there was too much at stake in the wellness of the country to worry about defaming his brother.

You know I don't like texting. I'm sure you're fine with taking a risk, I suppose. Where?- Mycroft H.

Bartholomew Hospital roof. Hurry, hurry – I'm impatient to see you. x JM

"Protocol states I mustn't do this, Anthea. But if it's for the interest of Britain –" She strode next to Mycroft, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"We can't let him ruin anything more. You're doing what's best, and don't hold back. I trust you to do what's best. Don't worry." A curl fell in front of her face, which Mycroft brushed away, his hands shaking.

"Thank you, m'dear. I shouldn't be long." He laid a small kiss on her forehead and tried to hold himself with some confidence as he exited the room. This wasn't going to be easy.

xx

I was perched on the edge of the building, legs swinging in time with Rossini musing in my ears. I tilted my head back and smiled at the irony. Soon enough I'd have both of them here, on my stage, not sure of their lines but with what emotion! Both of them would be helplessly wrapped around my finger, and all for the game. Sherlock thought I'd finally ended it all – I'm an actor! Oh, believe me, honey, it's on DVD. The rage in his eyes fed my soul and passion. True as it was, the media would eat up my lies of Sherlock as a fraud, and it would all simmer down on my front. Now everybody would defend me, and I would watch his pathetic world collapse in upon itself. How lovely. My boredom had finally taken a reprieve.

Muffled footfalls reached my ears, cueing me to pull my headphones out and swivel around. I waited a bit before that, just to set Mycroft more on edge. The walking stopped, and I swung the cord attached to my iPod like a lasso almost, waiting for him to draw closer. I turned over my shoulder and glanced back, seeing Mycroft using his umbrella as a crutch. He was so predictable, wearing his little tapered suit, while carting himself about in an obvious and tinted dark car.

"You seem frightened," I broke the tension, raising my eyebrows, gesturing him to come closer. "I don't bite." His brow wrinkled in disbelief, and my eyes rolled. "…Hard." Reluctantly, he walked over. I stood – he wasn't going to get intimidation over me by pure height. He may have connections, but I of course had ways of severing them before he could even get to them. It almost seemed as if he respected me. Respect, who needs it? Fear…fear was what I wanted him to feel. Fear acts as the mistress that makes you bow at her knees for forgiveness. I wouldn't have to stand much longer.

"What must I give you to make you stop?"

"Only bits of information, nothing you'd feel uncomfortable giving me." I smirked at the words he himself had spoken to John not long ago. Mycroft's eyes narrowed and he cocked his head slightly. "In fact, I won't even make you lie. I won't interrogate and torture you as you did me. I won't have to; you'll spit it out like it leaves a bad taste in your mouth."

"Anything."

"Ooh, determination, confidence. That's nice, so long as you follow through." He wasn't picking up on it yet. "Your childhood, Mr. Holmes. Tell me about your precious baby brother."

"You are ever so fixated on him, aren't you?"

"He's…extraordinary."

"And I thought Watson and him were perfect together." His eyebrows scrunched together, but not for long, just enough to reveal discomfort. Ah, a nice little bout of sarcasm. Mycroft was trying to get him to move faster, but I was having far too much fun with this.

"Ah- don't get snippy with me. I'm purely playing the game. Simple enough – tell me. There's only a small amount of untruth involved. It'll look like it's all fake – the cabbie only played along because I offered him payment, and because he'd die anyway. Nobody died that didn't want to – or because they had anything better to do."

"You treat death like it's more interesting than living, James." Mycroft's expression of disbelief was soothing.

"But that's it – I enjoy explaining this all to you, I really do, but you're too vacuous to really grasp the concept of living, aren't you? Pinned behind your desk, having people spy on your brother – you could have just talked to me, I do it for fun."

"Can we please just get to the point? This is getting more ridiculous by the moment." I held up a finger as if to quiet him. What an impatient boy.

"Death is certain; and at least you can know you're dead. Living is subjective – my definition hardly suits me as it is, and I would have given up long ago weren't it for everybody jumping on my little game just like I had hoped. Here, I present the final problem. I go free, as the actor Richard Brook – there was no Jim Moriarty. Obviously, I am he, but for this situation, I am not."

"Why? Why would I comply with lying, after people have died?"

"This is the fun part – either Jim Moriarty disappears, or you and everyone closest to Sherlock does, and he has to live with being a fraud, life in prison...there are so many wonderful things that could happen."

Mycroft's face paled as he began slowly telling me everything. He was no longer reluctant, but desperate. Slowly but surely, this game was wrapping itself up with a wonderful ribbon. When I presented it to Sherlock – that would be the real treat. Either he jumps from right where I stand, or he has to watch everyone he loves die – plucked away like weeds from a garden.

He stood at the end, blinking, in total disbelief of how perfect I had set him up. I smiled and dipped my head.

"Thank you for the story, my friend – it's been fun." As I passed him, hands in my pockets, I laughed. That laugh echoed into the skies, chilling Mycroft to the bone.

"So long, Richard."


End file.
